


My Apocalypse

by chase_acow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Wing Kink, season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-20
Updated: 2009-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-04 17:36:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chase_acow/pseuds/chase_acow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Castiel.  Throw in some snark, pretzels, wet t-shirt contests, and wing kink and this is what you get.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Apocalypse

**Author's Note:**

> Written right after 4.01 aired.

His hand holding the gun shivered a little when he realized who was staring back at him unflinchingly from behind the barrel. It was kinda cold in the laundromat though, so it wasn't like he was ashamed of it or anything. He wasn't scared.

"Oh, it's you," Dean said, but he didn't lower his weapon from where he had it pointed right between Castiel's icy blue eyes. His gut tightened up and he shifted his weight uneasily. "You know, that whole wings and light show may work on the locals, but I'm not a fucking amateur."

Three days since that night in the barn, and Dean had managed to convince himself that no matter what he thought he'd seen there was no such thing as angels. Demons made sense, demons followed rules. He knew where they came from, what they wanted. Even if there were such a thing as angels, if they couldn't be bothered to join the fight before now, then he didn't want anything to do with them. Where were they when he and Sam were fighting, and bleeding, and dying?

Castiel cocked his head to the side, and studied Dean. He blinked and breathed mechanically like a set pattern as if he couldn't quite make it the natural act that humans took for granted. Dean sighed and lowered his arm, tucking the gun into the back of his jeans.

"What will it take for you to believe?" Castiel asked, his voice low and even in the empty building. He'd changed into jeans and a white button down shirt, looking like any Tom, Dick, or Harry out there. Dean would never even look twice at him walking down the street.

Well, he might look twice, but not because he assumed he'd be looking at a superbeing. Castiel leaned back against one of the washing machines and crossed his arms over his chest, studying Dean.

"Nothing you can do, Wings," Dean sneered, sitting back down in the uncomfortable plastic waiting chairs and picking up his car magazine. "I'm just a natural skeptic."

"I won't lie to you, Dean."

Dean scoffed, idly flipping the pages while he kept his attention on the man or _whatever_ in front of him, "Because angels don't lie?"

Sometimes demons tell the truth, it would only make sense of angels to lie. Balance and world order and all of that shit. If there was one lesson a Winchester learned early it was that nothing supernatural ever got the benefit of the doubt.

"An angel will do many things. God's will is the driving force of our universe," he answered, but he sounded sad, or tired, soft like he had in the barn when he saw past Dean's bluster. "What I meant was that _I_ won't lie to you. Ever."

"Oh yeah?" Dean tossed the magazine down with more force than he needed to and jumped to his feet. He crowded against Castiel and glared, ready to end the farce once and forever, "Then I've always been curious, can God make a rock heavy enough that even He can't lift it?"

Shaking his head, Castiel easily slipped sideways and out from where Dean had him cornered. "I'm sorry this is so hard for you, Dean," he said and then pointed at one of the dryers. "Don't use that one. There's ink in the bottom that will ruin your clothes."

"You gotta be shitting me!" Dean wanted to punch something, which as far as that went, wasn't too unusual for him. Castiel put him on edge, that unknown quality making him grind his teeth, "You dragged me out of hell to save my fucking _laundry_?"

"We have to start somewhere," Castiel said and walked out the front door, disappearing between one blink and the next.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

 

It got to be a regular event. He and Sam would split up, and Castiel would show up. Sometimes he'd have information, and sometimes he'd stay just long enough to rile Dean up about his supposed fate before disappearing. One time, Dean talked Castiel into watching a wet t-shirt contest on MTV with him, but that had ended awkwardly when the angel started to tell him all about the lives of the faceless girls he'd been ogling. It was hard to admire a pair of tits when he knew that the girl had wanted to be a Senator before her bastard of a boyfriend had laughed in her face at her dreams.

This time, he seemed to have a different idea.

"What, we're going to save the world by going on a walk?" Dean scoffed even as he bent low to pull on one boot after the other. He was actually glad for the break from scouring the newspapers, but he wasn't about to give the angel the satisfaction. Sam had his phone off, and Dean had been bored out of his skull.

"No," Castiel answered, unconcerned with either Dean's tone or his sarcasm, "but this is the most hideous motel room I've ever seen. It doesn't suit you."

Dean looked at the pink wallpaper of puppies playing with bones and had to agree. He should probably check the motel owner for signs of posession, because anyone willing to paste that many tiny animal pictures to the bathroom wall had to evil. It had been a warmer than average November across the nation, so he didn't bother to grab his jacket before he followed Castiel out the door.

"That guy," Dean said, walking down the sidewalk and sneaking looks at Castiel out of the corner of his eye, "he really pray for some outside force to take over his body and his life? I stabbed you through the heart. There isn't any coming back from that."

"His family was killed by a drunk driver," Castiel answered, looking around him at the fall colors with obvious enjoyment. He took long strides but kept his pace to an easy stroll. "He prayed for God to use him and then to let him die. He won't remember any of this, and when I have no further use for his body he will die and join his family with God."

"Sounds kinda convenient."

Castiel turned his head and watched Dean as the walked. After a beat too many of silence, he spoke again. "You didn't want to live without your family," his words were quiet but he burned straight down to Dean's already singed soul. "Look what you were willing to do. Is he really that different?"

They were quiet as they walked around a park watching children just out of school make the most of a few hours of daylight. Dean found a pretzel stand and bought two salted with extra cheese for himself. As an after thought, he bought another for Castiel.

 

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"Dean? May I come in?"

Dean rolled his eyes. One day he was going to rub all the polite off his annoying angel stalker. Not that Castiel hadn't come in handy a few times over the last couple of months, but he seriously cramped Dean's style.

"Suit yourself," he yelled through the motel door and flipped the TV from The View to an old horror movie with a scantily clad lead actress. He waited until Castiel was inside and then added, "I don't suppose you brought any beer?"

"No, sorry," Castiel said, not sounding very sorry at all. He spent a moment looking at the motel décor, Green Bay Packers in the middle of New Mexico, and then ran his hand through his hair. "Dean, something just happened."

"Wow, you really do have a link to the big guy upstairs, don't you?" Dean asked, quirking an eyebrow. He uncrossed his ankles and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Good thing you're here to protect me from all the cryptic 'somethings' out there. I'll get my shotgun."

Castiel never got upset at Dean's sarcasm, even when he understood it. Dean liked that. He got tired of censoring himself, and it was a relief to say whatever he wanted without worrying about hurt looks and slaps to the face. It wasn't like they were friends or anything. Dean didn't need friends or his angel shadow, but it was nice to talk to someone that wasn't Sam, overtly evil, or the random bimbo of the week.

After he pulled out chair and sat down, Castiel steepled his fingers and rested his chin at the tip. "I was out helping a," he paused and grimaced, looking at Dean through his eyelashes before he continued, "I was saving a kitten stuck in a tree."

"Well obviously," Dean said, shaking his head and running his hands across his face. "Cosmic power, demon hordes on the loose, imminent hell on earth, and what are you doing? _Saving kittens_. I was better off on my own."

"You don't really believe that," Castiel said quietly in his calm and sure manner. "I wasn't paying enough attention to my surroundings and the demon you know as Ruby spotted me."

"You're wrong," Dean said, up and pacing before he realized that his heart was racing and sweat prickled at the back of his neck. "She's dead. Lilith –"

"Lost her hold on Ruby's containment when your brother overwhelmed her," Castiel said, breaking into Dean's rant before he could get his steam going. "She's been with Sam since the day after he buried you, teaching him how to control his psychic powers. Like me, she's followed whenever you find a hunt."

Dean stopped, staring strait ahead of him at the peeling green paint on the bathroom door. It was too much – Ruby, the lies, their motherfucking _destiny_. He didn't want any of it. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, managing to sound perfectly calm in the face of his rage.

He could hear the shrug in Castiel's voice. "Free will. There was still a chance that he would tell you himself," the angel said from the other side of the room. "Or that you would tell him about me. It would have been easier that way. By now, Ruby has told Sam about me. I can feel him coming; I just wanted you to be prepared."

"You'd better go," Dean said, shutting his eyes tight. He felt like he was going to puke. Like his head was going to explode.

Castiel touched his shoulder as he walked past and Dean felt something warm settle in the middle of his chest. "I'll stay close," Castiel promised and then he was gone.

When Sam barreled through the door, they managed a civil conversation for a record seventeen seconds before the accusations started flying. Dean realized he was looking at his brother with a whole new set of eyes. He could see the frantic tension in Sam's muscles, the shadows that settled whenever he stayed still for a heartbeat too long and the eyes Dean could have sworn he knew better than anything else in the world were barely recognizable.

"You're saying that all this time I've got Ruby on my back, you're here having a gay ole time with a freakin' _angel of the Lord_, and you didn't tell me?" Sam yelled, punching the wall and leaving cracks splintering the plaster from floor to ceiling.

"Two way street, dude," Dean said, crossing his arms over his chest before he didn't something stupid like trying to grab Sam. "You didn't think I'd care that my baby brother is frolicking with one of hell's bitches? And I wouldn't call it gay, that whole angel stick got old real fast."

Sam laughed, humorless and hollow, rubbing his temples as he shut his eyes. "All this time, I've been trying to protect you, and this is what I get," Sam said quickly, his shoulders still shaking even after he quit laughing.

"That's not how it works, Sam," Dean said, finally reaching out to cup his palm over Sam's cheek. "I protect you, that's _my_ job. And Sam, it has to stop. You and Ruby has to stop."

The shove wasn't unexpected, even that Sam didn't actually touch him wasn't completely unexpected, but the hatred in Sam's eyes froze Dean's blood in his veins.

"You still don't get it," Sam snarled, holding Dean in place with one spread hand. His eyes unfocused and his fingers twitched. When he spoke again, it was like he was talking to himself, "You'll never fucking get it. It doesn't stop. It never stops. After everything we've lost, everything we've ever believed in, all my faith. This is what it comes to."

"Sam."

"No, Dean," Sam said, snapping back to reality. He flicked his hand and Dean crashed into the far wall. "I just need a few days. Don't come looking for me, I'll come back when I'm ready."

The door slammed shut behind Sam and Dean slid to the floor, just one more limp body left behind. He curled over himself, knees protesting the position, and left his forehead on the floor. He felt empty. Sam took everything worthwhile and broke it, left it like a pile of kindling before a salt and burn. He sighed when the door opened again, too tired to yell anymore.

"I'm sorry," Castiel said, kneeling beside Dean on the dirty motel carpet.

Dean flinched when Castiel laid his hand on the nape of Dean's neck. Nothing else mattered. If Sam was lost, then nothing else mattered, and Dean had failed. Being in hell would be better than this.

A blanket of feathers enveloped him, and Dean startled, flinching at the contact. Castiel just let his wing settle more comfortably, an invisible force that tucked Dean in just like his mom used to do. After a moment, his despair bled away, leaving him warm and safe. Everything else shrank until it disappeared.

 

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Sam had been gone for four weeks and five days. Dean was going nuts chasing his own tail as he tried to track either Sam or Lilith. When he actually found their trail and not just a fake, he was always too late, too far behind them. Castiel stayed with him all the time now, and that was probably what pushed Dean over the line of crazy.

That, plus the fact that Castiel the angel had no sense of mortal modesty, and looked damn fine when he let his towel fall from his hips so he could get dressed after a shower. What kind of angel would let Dean push him face first into a wall so Dean could rub up behind him and lick a drop of water from his neck?

"An angel that is here for you, Dean," Castiel said, answering Dean's unasked question. He turned his head and flexed his arms against Dean's hold on him. "The form is immaterial. If you want comfort from this body, then all you have to do is take it."

Dean growled, pushing his hips harder against Castiel's ass. The denim of his jeans had to be one hell of a burn, but Dean couldn't help himself. He pulled Castiel around and pressed him back again, finding his mouth and leaving sucking kisses at the edges. Castiel's skin was warm beneath Dean's fingers, his hair still wet, tangled as Dean curled his hand around the back of Castiel's skull.

"Get on the bed," Dean said, his voice rougher than he intended, but in his defense, it had been a while. He pulled his shirt over his head and quickly stripped his jeans off too. He had some lube and a leftover condom in his bag; he tossed them up toward the pillows. Need strummed down his blood and roared in his ears.

He turned around and saw that Castiel had settled on his back, watching Dean with apparent interest. If nothing else, his current body was very interested in what Dean was about to do. His dick curled upwards, full and flushed, leaning to the left as it rubbed against his own belly.

Crawling up the end of the bed, Dean held himself up on his elbows as he rolled his hips down, sliding his dick against Castiel's thigh. He held back a moan at the contact of flesh on flesh and let his weight fall, licking and biting the joint where neck shoulder shoulder. Castiel was still underneath him, unresponsive until Dean sighed and pulled back.

"Is this doing anything for you?" Dean asked, spreading his fingers over Castiel's cheek and turning his head so they could look each other in the eye. "Will you tell me if something hurts?"

"Yes," Castiel answered, his fingers tracing a pattern over Dean's flanks. He spread his legs, letting Dean fall in between and curled his ankles over Dean's calves. "Yes."

Dean grinned, let his teeth show and then turned on his 'a' game kissing Castiel breathless. He found the lube and twisted the cap off with one hand. Sitting up on his heels, he coated his fingers with the slick and used his knees to nudge Castiel's thighs further apart. Castiel's dick felt good in his hand, solid and real, and he pumped it a few times before he slipped his other hand down between them. He probed gently until the muscle gave way and his index finger sank in to the knuckle.

"It feels good," Castiel said, wiggling and pushing down on Dean's finger. For the first time, his calm cracked and his voice rose along with his breathing. "Don't stop."

"Wasn't planning to," Dean answered, slipping another finger in. He was going too fast, but he couldn't slow down. It had been too long, he felt like he was vibrating out of his skin for something that reminded him of normalcy. Since he didn't suppose that Sam was going to walk back through the door, he had to take what he could get.

After a quick fuck and maybe that voice in the back of his head telling him that he was never going to win, never going to save Sam would shut up for the night. Quickly, he rolled the condom on and used the last of the lube over the rubber. He hooked his arm under Castiel's leg and lifted it to rest on his shoulder. Dean shifted forward on his knees and rolled Castiel with him, lining up his dick and sinking in.

Castiel groaned, low in his chest and hitched his hips, helping Dean to push in that last inch. He reached up and cupped the back of Dean's head, lightly scratching his fingernails over Dean's scalp. He started making all sorts of encouraging noises when Dean finally rolled his hips out and back in. Dean took a moment to admire his own skill.

Underneath him, Castiel was fever hot, and his legs were holding Dean tight as a vice. Finally, Dean's brain turned off and he could lose himself in familiar pleasure. He was warm and satisfied with the burn of his muscles, but there was something . . .

Dean blinked away the sweat that stung at his eyes and itched to wipe it off as it dripped down his muscles. Castiel had his eyes open, watching Dean and biting his bottom lip. The tendons on his neck stood out as he moved with Dean's thrusts; his fingers opened and closed over the sheets bunched beneath him.

"Can you," Dean panted, shifting his balance to one arm so he could reach between them and grab Castiel's dick. "Do you think you could?"

He felt the air move as Castiel spread out his wings. There was no convenient lightning to show them off, but Dean thought he could see the air shimmer with power. He matched the rhythm of his hand and his hips, speeding up as Castiel flicked his wings up, stroking Dean's sides.

The invisible feathers caressed his skin, sending shivers up and down his spine. He flicked his thumb under the crown of Castiel's cock, and forgetting blasphemy, thanked God when Castiel came and shuddered apart. Dean buried himself again and rode out his orgasm with Castiel's wings wrapping tightly around his body.

He collapsed to the side, his shoulder barely brushing Castiel's and was glad he didn't have to worry about avoiding wings in bed. Dean breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth until his heart rate was finally back to normal. Pulling the condom off was still as gross as he remembered, and he dropped it in the bedside wastebasket.

"So," Dean said when it was obvious that Castiel was content with the silence. "Why don't you have a big flaming sword to smite the wicked?"

"That's not my mission."

"Right," Dean cut in quickly, a muscle in his jaw twitching. "God commanded you to hang out with me until we accidentally stop Armageddon or something. Guess that was one hell of a short straw you pulled to wind up here."

Castiel was so still that Dean thought that he wasn't going to answer, but he finally rolled toward the middle of the bed and drew up his knees. Gently, he placed his hand over the tattoo on Dean's chest and said, "Your mother was favored, when you were born the hosts cried out for the chance to watch over you."

"Really?" Dean asked, ignoring the hollow sound to his voice.

Castiel sat up, brushed a kiss over Dean's forehead and muttered Latin under his breath. Suddenly Dean could barely hold his head up, and he decided to kick Castiel's ass after he got a nap. Just before he shut his eyes he heard Castiel whisper, "Also, you seem to have grown on me."


End file.
